Thirty Days Is Not An Option
by Phantom Girl 555
Summary: "For the entire month we've been together, I learned how she ate, how she talked, how she smelled, how she walked, and the most important lesson of all: how to love her. I wasn't going to let go of her, because thirty days just wasn't an option. This... stupid dare was a choice, but falling for her wasn't." (AU)
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! ****Got my writing vibes back.** Two updates in one day! ACHIEVEMENT, YES.

**This is the story I've been telling you guys about. This is just the prologue, though. ;)  
**

**Alternate universe, baby. I don't know how to insert Phantom into this, but I'll come up with something... hopefully.**

**I don't own Danny Phantom.**

* * *

**Thirty Days Is Not An Option**

**"Prologue"**

Friday, March 22, 2013

* * *

"I-I think I love you," was all he managed to get out.

Taking her hands in his, face bearing a confused expression, several things were going through his mind in that moment:

_Would she say she loved me, too?_

_What would happen if she did?_

_Would we disobey our parents' orders and run away together?_

The girl stood there in silence, looking at the ground―her eyes flicking from left to right. They bore a great sense of guilt; _and that girl never felt guilty_.

By that time, he felt something pierce into his chest. He already knew it coming: the hurt that would wrap itself around him and would result in his heart being ripped from his insides, torn to pieces and eventually stepped on by the same person he had offered it entirely to.

He couldn't bring himself to wonder about the negatives. After all, hope was all he had left. The support of Jazz and his parents had already dissipated, before they even went steady. Even Tucker tried convincing him that it was too much. This obsession with her had gone beyond his control. His mind told him to stop, but his heart wasn't giving up so easily.

Who could blame him though?

Danny Fenton? Just mentioning his name would cause all the ladies in earshot to swoon and drool over him. He was the crowd-pleasing, most popular guy in school, and not to mention, town superhero―who no one but his best friend and big sister knew about.

Her? She was the perfect match for him―_the_ socialite, the most attractive and most favoured girl in Casper High.

His baby blues found her turquoise. The same glimmer he always saw in them were there―and they were even brighter than he last remembered.

Though, she pulled away from him, arms folding over her chest. Turning away from him, her free flowing hair fell over her back. He couldn't help but stare at her beautiful figure, but after her voice started to shake, he snapped out of it.

His heart beat fast. He started to sweat.

"Danny, I…"

She was taken obviously taken aback, but that didn't stop her from replying like how her bratty persona always did.

She drew in a deep breath and sighed out of vexation. "I didn't mean for it to get this far," she pouted mockingly and whipped around again, this time, her means of facing Danny. "You do know this is only for show, right Danny? I mean, us populars are aware of our standing. To keep that up, we get involved with each other, but only for that reason."

The pain stabbed him in the back, shredding through his skin, and finally reaching the root from where it all began. His fists tightened as he held his head down. With his eyes clamped shut, he tried to prevent the tears from welling. A guy as strong as him, battling ghosts, fighting for his life practically each and every day, was brought down by love.

Of all things, it just _had_ to be love.

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me, Danny," she said with a soft grin as she cupped his chin and lifted his face to look at her. "Everyone knows my heart only belongs to Danny Phantom. I hope we can still continue dating, though."

With that, Paulina stalked away. To be honest, it seemed like she wanted to get going as quickly as possible; as if, in exasperation, she did a hasty retreat.

_If she only knew how she left him loathing in self-pity. Plus, the fact that she was in love with his alter-ego, which was technically him, but was still a different psyche of him, made it ache like hell.  
_

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**Thank you guys! Next chapter will probably be out tomorrow, since I'm just stuck at home, while it's summer break, and my friends are out with their other friends, swimming or shopping, out of town, or out of the country even...****  
**

**Well, see you!**


	2. Chapter 1

**I'm sorry this was delayed guys. :( I know this was supposed to be yesterday, but I'm really stuck during the weekends. With my parents around, dragging me off to different places, I can't find the time to write.**

**I forgot to add this A/N in the last chapter: they're about, 17 years old here. :]**

**I don't own Danny Phantom.**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

**Thirty Days Is Not An Option**

**"Chapter 1"**

Sunday, March 24, 2013

* * *

The sound of his clock ticking filled the room; it was the only source of noise that erupted in his silent and empty abode. For days, he hasn't been himself. The only time he would speak was when Tucker or Jazz conversed with him. Even Dash and Kwan, he refused. Since that was the case, all the more, his parents. They never had his back, anyway. From the very beginning, they knew this wasn't going to end well.

He sighed, "I should've listened to them," a single drop of anguish falling from his eye.

'_I gave her everything, and she rejected it. It was all a… stupid game to her. How could I have been so pathetic? All of it came crashing down―including me.'_

A knock on the door followed. There was a high probability that it was his sister, Jazz, but all she did was tell him she was a mistake…

That _he_ made a mistake.

His voice was stuck in his throat. He couldn't find his words. Instead, he wiped his face dry of tears, his palms now brushing against his cheek for the fourth time today.

* * *

Tucker's POV:

* * *

I tapped my foot impatiently on the ground. As the awesome best friend I am, I had suggested something to the gang a few days ago. (I'll be telling the poor kid what it is, later.) I just couldn't stand seeing him so broken. He had lost it. This was even worse than when he acquired ghost powers, and that says a lot. Plus, his offenses and defences in fights have become _real_ lousy. I always knew he had this thing for Paulina, but losing her was like, me losing him. I can't afford to have that. He's my buddy, after all.

I stood there quietly, waiting for an acknowledgement, but still, nothing.

"Knew he wasn't gonna come to."

I held the knob and twisted it. Pushing the door halfway open, I peeped inside, my hands gripping the side of the wooden frame. But before I could let myself in, I felt someone timidly tapping me on the back.

I whirled around to see Jazz, her face filled with concern, a corner of her mouth pulled back into a frown; her eyes, on the other hand, glazed with eagerness.

"You about to tell him?" She was in on it too.

Dripping with determination, the words: all of this is for his sake, spilled from my mouth.

She nodded with assuring confidence.

I stepped inside and pulled up a chair beside his bed. "Hey dude," I declared, mustering all the joy and warmth in my soul.

He was lying in bed, face covered by his messy hair. Even the place seemed gloomy. The atmosphere inside seemed to be relative to how he acted. The blue paint, closed windows and gray skies was great timing, by the way.

"So," I began, taking a seat with the back rest fronting my body, and resting my elbows over the top rail. "How's my best friend coming along?"

…

He didn't answer. Not anything new, I guess. He would answer was when it was something about _her_. I couldn't wait to see how he would react to it, so I went straight to the point. "Okay then. If you don't wanna chat, I'll tell you what I came here for."

With lack of emotion, Danny spoke up and asked what it was.

"What might that be?"

I cracked an ear-wide smile. Vic. To. Ry. Is. Mine.

"Before I say it, I want you to know that not only I, but also Jazz, Dash and Kwan approve of it too, so if you don't like the idea, I'm not the only one to―"

My gaze hovered over to him, trying to find a single emotion seeping from his features. Brows, no; mouth, no; eyes, a venomous glare that sent shivers to run down my spine.

"Okay, never mind," My focus drifted over to his ceiling, then his undressed walls.

The times we spent in this room when we were kids, all came flooding back to me. He used to have all these NASA and Space posters. It always reminded him of what he had always dreamt of being. But even that, he lost to that whore―I mean, Paulina. He lost everything. It was all replaced by memories, just waiting to happen with her. When he finally reached the top, it was the perfect opportunity.

They say there's a perfect time for everything, so, here it goes.

I looked him straight in the eye.

"We came up with a dare."

Again, he kept his lips stapled together. I bet he was choosing between letting rage take over him, or―for a change―trying to hear me out. And for once, after this whole Paulina biz, I realized he was _actually_ listening to what I was saying.

I am on fire.

"Keep going."

I lifted my arms and planted them on my knees with a slap. "You," I leaned forward, legs supporting from underneath and jerking my finger towards him, "obviously had your heart broken by Paulina, right?"

He looked confused, but went with it anyway. "Uh, right?"

"Here's the deal. You have to go out with a girl for an entire month. You, either fall in love with her, or she falls in love with you. Either way―"

"Hold on," he interrupted. "Just so you know, there is absolutely," He raised an arm, "no way," and crossed it over my face. "that I'm falling for another girl. And why the hell would I want to get involved in this stupid dare, anyway?"

Good thing I prepared for this sooner. I knew he was going to react this way.

"Dude, you gotta understand that some girls are confused about many things," I tried saying in a know-it-all kind of way, my eyebrows rapidly and repeatedly moving up and down.

However, his sloped inwards. "What?" He sat up. "I'm seriously not getting any of this."

"Some girls need to learn how to accept facts, and they aren't able to do that until they get hurt."

He rubbed that back of his neck.

"Danny, _how slow can you be_?" I ask, and then he started to laugh. I don't know why he did, because I was dead serious about what I said. His chuckles slowly died away as he realized making him do so was not my purpose.

I continued. "As I was saying, you gotta make this chick go gaga over you. That won't be such a problem, so I'll be skipping that part. Everything you did with and Paulina, you do with and to her. You take her out to restaurants, bring her to the park, give her all these amazing gifts. Bottom line is: you have to exert your best effort in showing this girl a good time, within your thirty days together. That way, your Hispanic little cheerleader would come―"

"Running back," he finished with wide eyes. "I finally get it now. I can't believe I'm saying this, but, you're right. You're actually right! I can't believe I doubted you for a second!"

He went on with the good compliments about me. I knew he didn't mean most of it, and all of that just suddenly burst out from him because he was thrilled at getting Paulina back, but it was really nice to know that he appreciated what I did. Forget the whole gang considering the scheme. I planned it myself.

"Shut up first. There's still something I need to tell you. If you don't complete your task in making this girl love you, you have to do some 'stuff'." The _stuff _accompanied with aerial quotation marks.

He jumped up and fastened his feet on the ground. I've never seen him this excited since, you know… With a small grin painted on his trap, he asked what that something was.

"_If_, you don't make the girl fall head over heels,"

I gulped. I wasn't completely sure about going this far in.

"You have to expose yourself as Danny Phantom."

A long pause. A very long pause. Quite creepy if you ask me. After this, it isn't going to go well for me.

Next thing I knew, he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me like there was no tomorrow. "_Are you insa_―"

Here's what I was scared of. My coming is right around the corner. In just a few moments, I'll finally see the light, and my grandma will be here to pick me up.

"Hear. Me. Out. First!" I said in between his rattling, but he still didn't stop. I decided to keep going, because there was a lower than five percent chance that he would be stopping anytime soon.

"Do you wanna―dude, hey!" I tried pulling free of his grasp. "_Do you wanna get over this or keep living a completely crappy life_ _devoted to her_?!"

His last push was equipped with enough force to make me come barreling down to the ground.

"Fine! It's a damn deal!" He seemed to be clawing his hair out.

Even though I was imbedded somewhere I wasn't supposed to be, I couldn't help but put on a proud face. He walked over to his drawer and banged his fist on it, head held down.

"So what do I get if I win?" he interjected, finally calming down of his state.

"It's your freedom, or Paulina's heart."

Something from the back of my mind just popped. I snickered in mind at the self thought. Another dash of interesting went into the pot.

"_In addition, __**you also have to break the girl apart**__, whoever she may be. You know, like, what Paulina did to you? It'll give you a sense of fulfillment. Don't worry."_

Finally, my best friend would be back to normal in a matter of thirty days. Well, it's better than him not going back to his previous self, at all. What with saving the town and et cetera.

I heard the drops of rain finally finding its way to the cemented pavement outside, and the temperature was finally advancing. Danny's spirits really lightened up after our conversation.

"Hold on, if I were to expose myself as Phantom, I could win Paulina back, so why don't I just call this off and do it?"

I didn't retort.I knew something bad would've come out if I spoke to soon_. Was he serious about this? _I was sure about him not risking his secret, so it wasn't that big of a deal before. I mean, he's like, legendary! There are only three―three! ―halfas in the entire planet: him, Vlad Masters and his clone Danielle; also that, he willed to give up for her.

"You're-you are willing to give up your safety? You're willing to give up _you_, for-for her? Are you sure I'm the one who's insane?"

* * *

**Dun dun dun. Twist!**

**Danny has to either break up with his soon-to-be-girlfriend, or risk his life by exposing his ghastly identity. I didn't mention Danny against the idea anymore, because he also knew himself that this would have a positive effect on him. Sooner or later, it would help him get over. But with the temptation of once again swooning Paulina's heart, what's about to happen? ;) Though, will he fool himself into the tiny fact that Paulina is in love with him, (technically) only because of his ghostly half?  
**

**Reviews are appreciated.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! Do you know what day is it today?**

**...**

**It's _April 3_! _APRIL__FREAKING__ THREE_! Do you know what that means?**

**...**

***drum roll***

**...**

**_HAPPY 9TH ANNIVERSARY DANNY PHANTOM! :3_**

*****Don't you dare tell me you forgot today's the 9th anniversary. :/*** And to celebrate it, here's a long (notreallylongbutit'slongerthanusual) chapter!**

**YOU KNOW, THERE'S A RUMOR THAT THE SERIES WILL BE RETURNING TO NICK ON ITS 10TH ANNIVERSARY? BUT I'D RATHER NOT GET MY HOPES UP. AFTER ALL, IT'S JUST A RUMOR, AND I MAY JUST GET HURT WHEN IT DOESN'T. :( BUT IF IT DOES, THERE'S A POSSIBILITY THAT BUTCH WILL BE MAKING NEW EPISODES, BECAUSE HE SAID IN AN INTERVIEW BEFORE, HE'S WILLING TO MAKE NEW EPISODES IF EVER THE SHOW GETS PICKED UP AGAIN. *hearts* OMG. I CAN'T KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT. UGH. OKAY.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, or anything mentioned below.  
**

**Enjoy reading!**

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**Thirty Days Is Not An Option**

**"Chapter 2"**

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

* * *

Today came earlier than expected for the boys. Just the afternoon of yesterday, they blueprinted everything about to happen this Monday ―the first of March. The plan would later on, come into action. Tucker still had the job of explaining what he and Danny talked about, to the two cheats in this game.

As usual, they woke up with grim faces. Their usual morning routines were accomplished; Tucker: with great speed. He was hoping to arrive at Casper High earlier than his buddy, but just in time to see Dash and Kwan in the school corridors, stuffing Lester into his own locker.

Launching towards the door, the boy reached out and grabbed his backpack, and, after securing the entrance to his dwelling then spinning the set of keys in his index finger, he went off, racing towards the educational foundation.

As soon as he entered the building, he turned right; he turned left. The two were nowhere to be found. A frustrated groan exited his mouth. From a steady look at his watch, immediately enthralling him was the sound of a screaming kid. His head shot forward, spying the two football players.

That cry―"Help!"―automatically forced in memories Tucker didn't welcome. Back in first year, he and Danny-boy were treated like dirt, too, the same way the current freshmen and the nerds were: always made fun of; hung on flagpoles, overhead wedgies.

The clank of metal confirmed the absence of any others within the area. Tucker's eyes descended on the blonde, and, after Baxter screaming, "Foley!" and vice versa, they bumped their fists together. His sudden implication of the "_thing"_ became a conversation starter for his purpose of coming to them.

Both howled menacingly, voice tingeing with anxiety, and Kwan smacked the guy by the back. Each jock took his opposite side and waited as Tucker slowly reached the exposition.

* * *

Shuffling noises of his sneakers trudging on the walkway bickered with the tire screeches and girly whispers―plus some victorious yeses―behind him. He guessed it was due to the leakage of the breakup. The news had spread like wildfire, and it was all the girls would talk about. Paulina never knew how to shut her big mouth, so it was no wonder how it managed to disperse so quickly.

With his eyes glinting and mind screaming success, his heart still contradicted, and, in opposition to his head, yelled out with all its might: no. It was _the_ day: the day that would persuade the cease of Paulina's existence in his mind, but did he really want that? Two sides of his being were caught up in a heated argument, composed of options that could be looked into, and nowhere near acceptable―several points having their fair share of rights and wrongs.

He ran his fingers through his messy hair, and was followed by longing sighs.

That single question Tucker popped yesterday had haunted his thoughts. The diction, the pauses, the stresses, it was all there.

"_You're-you, are willing to give up your safety? You're willing to give up you, for-for her? Are you sure I'm the one who's insane?"_

Even he was surprised at his own words at first, and it managed to keep him from sleeping soundly last night.

Was he really willing to give up his own life for her? The GIW had the perfect excuse to get their grip on him, ―if he didn't come with his arms raised up in surrender―chase him to their hearts content, and deprive him of a normal life. In the next months, he was to become a full pledged adult already, independent enough to survive without Maddie and Jack. Anything that would happen then would already be his responsibility. Exposing himself as Phantom would put danger into his own hands. Sure, Tuck, Jazz, Dash and Kwan would most likely be there to help him get through things, and his parents, probably, but they can't aid him forever, especially since it was _all_ done for Paulina. But if it was worth it, then, it was.

All of this thinking resulted in his head throbbing and thoughts juggling up. His common sense wasn't very common at all, and in that time, he made the account lose its speak-for-itself statement

It just hit him that he could've flown to school. "Idiot," he muttered with a groan.

He tossed a glance at the incoming alley a few meters in ahead of him, at the same time, doing a run-through of ideas that would temporarily distract the crowd from behind.

He searched his pockets worriedly, the narrow entrance quickly closing in, though ended up with no luck. All he found was a pen and a small, crumpled up sticky note. Without any more choices, he pulled the items out, staring at it again, then shrugged them off as enough.

Clasping the pen cap with his teeth, he scribbled something down on the paper settled against his palm. Without anyone noticing, he shot a small beam out and burned a portion of the short letter.

"I found a letter from Danny Phantom!" he screamed loud enough to lure the girls' attention away from him, and to the pen he gripped. "It's inside this pen cap, which is his, too, by the way!"

A foot stepped backwards, his upper limb stretched out in an attempt to propel the item as far as it'll take itself. All of the teenager's differently colored lips zipped together, gawks fixated on the Pilot branded ballpoint.

With that, off the group went, and off Danny went, different paths in mind.

* * *

A familiar view fronted him. There was Tucker, huddled up with Dash and Kwan, minding their own business and shooing off―threatening, in the blonde's case― the people who neared their heap. The trio was too absorbed in their conversation to see the raven-haired teen coming.

Danny approached them quietly, practically tiptoeing his way towards them, and dearly hoping that his hearing was good enough to make out what they were planning without him, despite the huge distance between.

"So… that's about it."

He thanked God for the enhanced senses that came with his ghost powers.

"That poor guy. 'Ts a lot better than him not hearing any of Paulina's biatching about how he broke up with her, though. It's getting real annoying."

"Serves her right. I mean, who could blame him for doing so? After she breaks his heart, she wants to keep their '_re_-_lay-shon-ship_' up," gagged Kwan, "just for her popularity. What the hell is that about? Scared to lose her status when Danny was over with her?"

They snickered menacingly, but were all interrupted by a loud shush that came from Dash. He saw them turning to each other, then after nodding once in agreement, the tree simultaneously fronted him.

"He-he-hey man!" The African-American boy smiled. Danny walked closer, wiping the what-the? look off his face, and felt an arm hook on his neck as he got closer to Tucker.

"What took you so long bro?"

He couldn't help spitting, "I saw you guys talking about _something_ without me. It would be _so _rude if I interrupted, wouldn't it?" in a bitter tone.

"Oh," Tucker said, shifting from I'm-so-happy-to-see-you to oh-great-were-caught. He tried to keep a straight face on, although couldn't do it well. Dash, able to see through his reaction, bit his lip and shuffled―careful not to get caught―closer to Kwan. The eager boy still had his eyes eating up his best friend's soul, so it gave him an advantage to tag in Kwan.

He elbowed the athlete beside him multiple times, but it was as if something was diverting his attention away from Dash. Making him say so was the fact he had his head down.

…

With a regretful sigh, he put on his best strut, "Why are you so up and on about it?" his surveillance on Danny.

Said boy looked back at him, Dash's impertinent scrutiny leading to his irate behavior.

"_Because it was about her, wasn't it?_" He asked in a dead serious tone.

Tucker got amid the two, who held out their fists in intimidation, grunting "Let's―oof―get down, to… business!" as he was being squished in position; Kwan yanking the letterman jacket with the wearer in it; a bitter voice mumbling something along: vainglorious.

Paulina spoke up, capturing the attention of the entire scene. The exposed half of her back and bare shoulders served as a response to their inquisitive expressions. She was wearing a black and white striped halter dress that sort of poofed at the bottom; thin straps at the top tied together to keep the entire thing from falling―which wasn't really necessary, but it brought the outfit well―accentuated by a brown leather belt that trailed across her tiny waist.

Star had to unwillingly dig her fingers into the girl's skin, avoid her scratches of wrath and protest, hold her against her chest and haul the Hispanic señorita away, who was not yet ready to be beaten just yet.

"You have got a _lot_ of nerve showing up, Danny Fenton. Don't you just go through hell whenever you see me? Aren't you guilty? Isn't breaking up with me enough for you, and you just _have_ to go rubbing it in my face that we're not walking together, hand in hand, going to class?"

She pushed her satellite away.

"I would say I miss you, but I don't wanna lie in front of the entire," she waved to refer to the fast increasing audience. "Student body?"

The red fist lodged in Danny's chest started thumping wildly, both in anger and agitation; he knew it wouldn't be calming anytime soon. As long as Paulina was there, no chance of that was likely to happen.

"Girl! Let's! Go!"

The group all swung around and went on with their business, but the onlookers, still rattled at the recent occurrence that happened in front of them; mouths agape and dumbstruck in place. Everyone was taken aback, even Danny himself. She was mad? _She_ was mad. He sarcastically chuckled at the irrationality. He absolutely had no clue how he fell in love her so much. Not just loved her, but fell in love with her. Everything that falls gets damaged. He knew that, yet still took the risk. Until now, that spark that lights up in him whenever he hears that voice still hasn't disappeared.

The teenagers faded away one by one, proceeding to lockers and getting books for the following classes. This is going to be talk-of-the-school for weeks, and might even ruin Danny's chances with his soon to be "girlfriend". As the boy was deeply submerged in the possibilities that could occur in the thirty days, a shriek collided with his ability to cogitate. "Oh. My. God! Look! _Look at this! _It's an actual letter from Danny Phantom! With-with his signature, and an ecto beam burn and everything Phantom! I had to tear this from the paws of the other phangirls, but it was worth it! _So_ worth it!" He smiled at her amusement of such a simple item.

"Okay, I've made a list of all possible girls you can date. I eliminated Paulina, Star for obvious reasons and Valerie for _your_ reasons. This is arranged randomly, and I want you to begin... from the middle section." Tucker pulled out his PDA and started tapping on the screen with the stylus. "Cover those eyes."

He did as asked of him, silent and imagined screams of objection running through his already aching ears.

"Time to finally get this over with."

Danny held out his left, his right held close to his side. He felt something heavy weighing down his mitt. The cool lens came in contact with the pad of his thumb, stroking the screen.

Up. Down. Up. Up. Down. Up. Down. Down. Down.

He finally settled the appendage on the bottom part of the screen.

"So? Who is it?"

...

No one dared to speak up.

"Guys? Guys! _Who is it?_"

He unfastened his eyes, choosing to gander at his chums before anything else. They all contemplated on the device he wielded, keeping from blinking―too surprised, if they were to rephrase.

Hesitating, he went to see for himself, and, expecting his own reaction, peered back at the threesome in panic.

"_Sam Manson? Sam Manson?!_"

...

"Let me take back what I said about this being easy."

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**

**As I always say, reviews are greatly appreciated!**

**Again, happy ninth. I love you, Danny Phantom. Mwaa. :***


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! I'm sorry this took _forever_. I actually wanted this chapter to be longer, but I was rushing to update this due to another inconveniently planned road trip this Tuesday to Thursday. Plus, I'm sleeping at my friend's house next Saturday and won't be back 'til next Monday, so if I didn't post this now, it would be delayed for another week. I decided to just add it in the next chapter.**

**As for my tardiness, I have no excuses. (****I hope this makes up for it, though.)** I usually work on a chapter 3 hours each day, and those three hours aren't even dedicated enough to them, 'cause 80% of the time, I'm still on Twitter. :')  


**Also, I heard that the suspects for the bombing in Boston have been caught. My heart goes out to all victims. May they be justified.**

**By the way, did you see the new icon for the story? It's how I picture Sam in the near future. :3 You see, it wasn't really supposed to be Sam. I was just doing some random sketches, then I accidentally colored the girl's eyes purple. Boom, I was all, "You're gonna be my new Sam." I kinda messed up with the angle and the hair―especially the hair, because as I previously stated, it wasn't going to be Sam―so I made her hair longer in the story. Whad'ya think? C:  
**

**Sorry for the kind of long A/N. I don't own Danny Phantom, or any other brands****―**if there are**―**I forgot to mention below.

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Thirty Days Is Not An Option**

**"Chapter 3"**

Saturday, April 20, 2013

* * *

I choked down the urge to pass out. Words would not be able to explain how scared I was. Now that I'm doomed to a fate with Sam Manson, my ghostly half was at risk. This is bad. This is _way_ bad.

"Was it?" My heart hissed.

This is _definitely_ bad.

"Can't I switch?" Sweat trickled down my already beading forehead.

Tucker went to look at me sympathetically. "As much as I want to, dude―and believe me, I really want you to―rules are rules."

My brows rose, stitching together at an upwardly sloping side.

"Tuck, please. I'm begging you!" I let out a nervous laugh, smile twitching. "I mean, you gotta―"

He gave a warm grin and an assuring pat on the back as he proceeded to head for class. "Relax, man. You got this." And before leaving, brought a hand up to my ear and whispered, "Finally come to your senses, huh?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but with nothing coming to mind, I shut it in defeat, realizing what Tucker had said was right. Kwan and Dash soon left with thumbs up and confiding words of: Don't worry. It's all going to be fine. Frankly, that was hard to believe. Of all the girls I could be stuck with, it had to be _her_.

Sam Manson―Goth girl. Not the popular, yet not the loser type either. She had midnight black hair which was always tied down into a ponytail, reaching her shoulder blades. She had this, _amazing_ amethyst pair; unlike any I've ever seen before. I remember Paulina telling the entire school in third year that Sam and Nick Harris did_ "it_." The girl never denied it; never said it was true, so all of us presumed it was just another one of Paulina's rumors in order to bury her into the ground, since they were never on good terms; they always had this grudge against each other. For days, we all along thought accuracy was on our side, until the news got to Nick and he left in the middle of the school year; thus, proving Paulina, for the first time ever, right.

That part doesn't bother me, I mean, who am I to make decisions for her? It just highlights the fact why she shuts herself away from people she doesn't trust… Especially me. As everyone already knows, I treat almost everyone here like garbage. I had to put on this numbskull interior whenever I was around her, most importantly, because it was one of Paulina's demands. It was this deal we had before we started going out. And I swear, Paulina has never hated someone as much as Sam. I don't know if this was some competition between the two, but if it was, my princess would win by a landslide.

I got so caught up in worrying about what I would do to literally save my skin, a sudden jab of pain coursed through my body, without me even knowing why. I found myself face to face with the wall that framed the doorway to Pre-Cal.

And she would be there, sitting right in front of me; doing what she can to avoid me and all the other popular douchebags in this school.

Damn this.

* * *

"Hey, uh, you dropped this." I held out the wooden writing medium, leaned closer and waited for her to do something―anything: reach out her arm; turn to me; Say, "Thank you," or whatever.

She sluggishly angled, her half-lidded, ignorance-filled eyes met mine and she immediately dropped her gaze to the finger-enveloped pencil in my already perspiring palm. From how she was staring at it, my bet was a rude response.

"Why did you grab hold of it?" She rested the lower part of her arm on the chair's arm rest and went all detective on me.

"Because… it fell?" I pulled away and glued my back to the seat. The soft chatter of students' and Mr. Banks' vocal equations played on repeat in the background.

She held her two fingers to her temple. "Don't play dumb, Fenton. You've had _tons _of opportunities to pick up my pencil, but you _never did_. What makes this time different?" She puckered her lips to a side. "Is this another one of Paulina's stupid jokes? Oh wait, I forgot, _you two are over_."

Ending it with that, she crossed the line. I don't know how I could possibly keep this thing up. I might as well reveal myself right now than be forced to hear that every day. I'm already aware of that, and I don't need anyone rubbing it in my face. I should've just kept up the icon of being Paulina's boyfriend, holding her spike veiled body, staring into her eye-camouflaged blades, feeling… the cuts and bruises she herself shred on me, every second I was spending with her.

"Manson, Fenton! Would you like to share this with the rest of the class?"

Hearing my name in that low and monotone voice made me freeze. This is officially the luckiest day of my life. Of all people Banks could humiliate, of all girls I could've went out with…

"I'm sorry Sir, but _Fenton_ here keeps bothering me," she hardened, receiving looks of shock and jolts of gasps. Something weighed me down―made me want to sink down in shame. Banks wrote something on paper and eyed me dirtily, giving me the notice as he stated "Detention," aggressively. Sam smirked at my semi-creasing features, but it disappeared as soon as it emerged when Sir came up to her and handed her a pass similar to mine. "For disrupting the class."

Seeing her face like that… Ha, golden.

The rest of the class had gone by incredibly slowly, but I was more than sure that I was the only one to feel it. I mean, I was responsible for the decrease of Sam and I's attitudinal grade, and bombardment of questions related to the newly taught lesson I wasn't paying attention to. So of course I was thankful when lunch struck, and as I headed for the cafeteria, passing by Tucker on the way, I heard Manson blabbing away to Val about what had happened three subjects before.

"So, how'd it go?"

I stuffed a book into my locker, "Badly." and another, "We both got into detention," and another. "And she kept ru―Tucker!" A loud slap bounced off the walls of my metal compartment. I rubbed the bruised area and hoped that the terrible ache would reduce and quicker than soon, disperse. That guy developed good swatting skills from fighting ghosts―fighting the Box Ghost whenever I already knocked him out unconscious, if I may, and taking all the credit for it. I would just stuff the blue-skinned apparition into the thermos.

"Danny, this is great! You could spend some alone time with her! You know, get to know each other, and you can start as friends, and tomorrow, ask her out and―"

"Take. It. Slow."

Tucker chuckled. "At least you're starting to forget her."

"Y-yeah." I mumbled the last part, "No," to myself.

* * *

**Sam's POV**

* * *

I groaned in resentment and folded my arms over my chest. That in-your-face expression he smothered all over my feelings of disgust for him made me want to pull out the raging bull locked inside the prison-serving chamber in my ribcage, and sew a red cloth around his torso.

"Damn, Fenton… Being restrained in detention because of him."

If you were to ask another girl about being stuck in detention with and because of Fenton, they would've been screaming and stomping their way to the canteen with faces creased,―not in worry, but joy―fanning their watering eyes, and smiling ear wide, trying to blind others into the fact that they could spend time with the guy. Problem is: I am _not _one of the ninety-nine percent of airheads who would be crying tears of joy because they had an hour to spend with Fenton. If there were tears to be fell, it would be because of agony. This was even worse than getting into detention itself.

Valerie tucked my shoulder in an understanding pat. "He ain't worth your frustrations." I looked up at her as her brows tilted; she forced a plastered beam across her blankness, and at the far left, Danny glaring daggers, with a somewhat level of dissatisfaction. Not that I wondered why, or anything.

Fenton…

Back in first and second year, that name was never stated, never talked about, never seen, heard, or felt, either. Never had he gotten the chance to savor the sweet taste of being accepted by his peers, and to say the least, it put a damper on him. He may never have said it, but I see it from the way he acts. After all, it's like I simply mirror him whenever I'm at home. He was always picked on, always made fun of; hence, it wasn't really surprising that he stepped out of his way to become popular in the following school year. Quicker than we expected, junior year came, and I met Valerie, and Mia. Fenton claimed to have this… connection with the town hero, and that he knew him pretty well, since his parents were ghost hunters, had all these weird inventions and knew so much about ghastly spirits. No one believed him, until he'd shown everyone a video of Phantom referring to him as one of his closest friends. It's a pretty stupid way to gain popularity if you ask me. If word reaches town, the Guys in White would run after him―heck, not just the GIW, every ghost hunter would be after him. I bet his parents would probably even have him under lockdown and would be asking all these questions about why he never told them. Anyway, pretty soon everyone found out, and Paulina, obviously, had a plan to use him; they started going out, and he's become a tyrant to the nerds, geeks, dorks, emos and all the other unsociable groups in this school ever since.

"Val, I don't get how you can still stand talking about him. I-I know you used to like him, go out with him even, but… after Paulina in second year, he's been a real douche to us―to _all_ of us. I just don't understand how you're able to do it. If I were in your place, and I saw how much he's changed and-and… I don't know how I would keep from throwing up every time I had the chance to regret ever wanting him."

Easy as it was to say, it wasn't easy to actually do. It kept Valerie occupied; it kept me occupied. That's all that mattered for now. But, forgetting someone you cared for _so much _in a somewhat split second kind of thing, was not easy at all, no matter what the person had done.

'_Nick Harris, that_―'

I trailed off in mind.

But what the hell could I do but hurt? After everything, I thought he was serious. I thought he would stand up for me―fight for me, do everything he was capable of, just to make me happy, but a stupid façade and he disappears like the cool winds of the warm weather: enveloping you in its amenity then suddenly disappearing when the scorching atmosphere takes over.

I plunged back into the rough and punching waters of cognizance when a loud sigh withdrew from the girl beside me. What was on her mind, I had no idea, but judging from how she bit her lip and jittered up in a matter of seconds, I could say it still had something negative to do with that turd.

"You know, I don't know anymore… I think I still want him, but… at the same time, I don't. I probably sound like a hopeless ditz right now, but, when it comes to love, we all do, right?"

Love.

It was a big word which I wasn't ready to hear. First of all, we were fourth year High School students. What could these people possibly know about love, aside from it being _just the same as like_; pft, just the same as like, my ass. Second, she had these feels for Fenton―wait, scratch that. She _has_ these feels for Fenton―feels that were pretty much impossible to get rid of, and I don't know if I was going to be the more-good-than-bad friend that supports her on this, or the more-bad-than-good friend that's against her preferences.

"R-right."

Silence filled the empty space of where our conversation should've picked up on. I'm not entirely sure what occupied her: accepting that her feelings for Fenton weren't going to be shooed away that instantly, scolding herself for telling me about it, or both.

Me? I was handling that, and all these flashbacks of Nick, in a sad attempt to keep my brick wall of defenses up.

Keep it together Sam. You have to, for your own sanity.

* * *

This is just what I needed―being crowded amongst two more buffoons, namely: Zach Reed and Kyle Martin.

Like one wasn't enough already.

I marched in, slumping down in the chair closest to the door and dropped my bag next to it.

I haven't had the slightest idea what was going to happen now. I'd never been sent to deportation, and neither was I planning to visit it anytime soon.

Mr. Banks finally came in after minutes of pure buffoonery and egoism emitting from the two nestled in the furthest corner of Room 201, shortly followed by Fenton seconds later, who found a place next to me and landed there with an unnerving grin. I didn't want to get into anymore trouble, so I sucked it up, swallowed hard and gathered all the strength of will I could to pull off an equally agitating sneer.

The sound of chalk screeching on the blackboard made me lose focus on the guy and the hairs on the back of my neck stand. Banks moved to the side, the white-smudged green surface reading, "Detention", underlined and in all caps.

Really, what students did in here wasn't hard to piece together: survive through the harsh looks the teacher was giving us, keep quiet and think about what we've done.

To simply put: it was a waste of sixty could-have-been productive minutes.

* * *

I buried my face into the open space left by my table-top glued folded arms.

I bet Val and Mia were enjoying themselves in the mall, running store through store and having food trips in the middle of it all. When I told the both of them about this earlier, I couldn't even feel the sympathy in their consoles. Even though it was soaking in lush comfort and rose up in flames due to the anger fueled by him for getting me into this mess, they still had this… twitterpated touch to how they said things, which by the way, was sickening.

I heard the door click; the two continue their rant at the back; Fenton say, "Hey there;" my mind dictate "Get out of here," over and over; and myself shuffling around to get up and look at my watch―5 minutes to go―and face Danny, because this war was far from over.

"This is your entire fault,"

The change in his expression was perceptible. "Well you're the one who got caught talking back."

"Oh, so now you're weighing the blame on _me? _You're the one who started the conversation!"

"You're the one who decided to answer back!"

"_You're the one who expected a reply_!"

This was ten times more aggravating than how I expected it to be, because it just seems _so logical_ to throw the terrible outcome of what he did to me, and expect me to catch it with fault of responsibility for it.

I stood up, and then he did the same. My hand flung out, completely oblivious to me. I was just about to slap some sense into him when a caustic remark blew into the still draft from the conditioning unit.

"Aw, replacing Paulina already, Fenton?" was the interjected comment that sent both our calm demeanor to rapidly change tenfold. I felt my nostrils flail, the steam blow out of my ears. Something told me to go up there and whack Reed to express my rage, but my sensible side said otherwise: that it wasn't worth it―that listening to anyone wasn't worth it; that no one knows what you've been through. They're all wrong about the image of you imprinted into their thick skulls. At that point, it wasn't just about Zach and Kyle, it was about how everyone was―may it be Fenton, Sanchez, the entire campus, even Val and Mia who I poured out everything to―still unable to understand how I was truly feeling inside.

"You had one simple job, and you still messed up, Fenton. All you had to do was choose a new girl to run dry, and you choose a slut."

"Skank Manson, that's a good one!"

Everyone had accused me of being this puppet, and most of the time, it wasn't any bother. I've been keeping this strong outline for almost one and a half years since the incident now, and I trained myself to build it up every single time someone broke it down, but all these emotions that came flooding at the exact same time… It finally ran me over. God, I felt everyone turn against me, and those that stood by me slowly disintegrating. What hurt even more was that my parents weren't helping. They always had time for these cocktail parties, out of the country conventions, everything single that didn't concern me.

Tears started to prick at my downcast eyes. I held every breath, 'cause every time I let it out, it felt like the grief buried deep down in my soul was being forced out of its' locked casket. I couldn't find the guts to move. I was stuck in place. Now that the time for retort came, I had nothing to say. My words disappeared to unknown places and didn't even leave a trace.

I was ready to explode.

"_Shut the hell up. You can't talk to her like that._"

I swore I was even hearing things. Maybe I was going crazy.

"_Like you're gonna make me?_"

A loud smack sounded throughout the room. It all sounded like Fenton was actually defending me―the irony of it all was too good to be true, yet it felt so real. Curiosity got the better of me as I set regard at the onset of the strong blow.

I stepped back in surprise; my drops of anguish welled, syncing with the red stream that flowed out of Martin's nose. Reed's eyes followed the running trail, his view finally being the tiled floor stained with blood.

"_Dude, you're bleeding!" _ He softly screamed. "_Holy crap, Fenton!"_

Zach clenched his fists and crouched, just daring Fenton into a fight. He let go with a hook to the right, his teeth clenching, his being spewing out every unintelligible word and action that jolted to his mind, in light to successfully avenge his best friend.

I stiffened even more, deciding and accepting my incapability of doing anything. It was all going to happen, I intervene or not. I had no idea what to think. A fight was happening right in front of me, because of me. My incentives finally kicked in when I saw a hit heading directly towards Fenton.

"Fenton, loo―!"

He immediately ducked, and revealing a suggestive look when he turned around, paleness spread throughout his entire body seconds later. A loud bang-crack had finished my sentence, but we were all too absorbed in the duel display to even check what it was. The door had flung open and none of us even knew.

"_What is happening here?!_" The four words caught us by surprise. The bell rung, signalling that the after class activities were supposed to be done with when the hour struck, but after this meeting, something was telling me we were about to be dismissed even _more _later. I hastily wiped away the tear crusts on my cheek.

"I leave for five minutes and this is what I return to? A boxing match, a crying girl and a bleeding boy? Who started this mess?"

No one dared to speak up. We were all to blame; at least, in my opinion. No one deserved greater punishment than the other. Their silence either meant they thought that way, or didn't want Sir Banks to know they had been mistreating their batch mates―which lead to even more trouble.

The Math teacher bent down to pick up the shattered clipboard. "Then," He stood and regained his teacher-composure. "I guess I'll be seeing you all again for four more school days. Now get going," he demanded coldly as he held out the door for us.

* * *

**Thank you for being patient.**

**Ratings and reviews are greatly appreciated!**

**Next chapter... Uh, 2 to 3 wee-asdfghjkl-OKBYEEEEEEEE!**


	5. Chapter 4

**So I actually updated this within the time period I said I would. \m/**

**Hey guuuuys. Good news! I stopped Twitter for a while! C: But I created a Tumblr account. lawl. xD**

**If Danny saw what his phans were doing in Tumblr... HAHA. PRICELESS. You guys participating in the #phanniemay thing?**

**Anyways, I noticed several errors in the last chapter, and I'll get to rewriting that. Maybe.**

**I don't own DP. : Enjoy!**

* * *

**Thirty Days Is Not An Option**

**"Chapter 4"**

Saturday, May 04, 2013

* * *

I left the room in a hurry. I needed to get away from here: the very place where all my problems arise. There was a small amount of people I passed by that looked at me with concern, and I appreciated that so much, they had no idea. (After all, their sympathy was the only thing I felt I had left to lean on.) I told myself, "Maybe it was better off this way: that I was always alone, exploring the depth of my own mind and trying to find myself." That way, I didn't have to deal with all the other loads people around me were heaving, just mine.

Every little thing around me started clouding up again, my vision blurring quicker and quicker by the second.

I barrelled the double doors of the school's entrance open, feeling the warm rays of the sun slowly creeping up, and finally engulfing me as I bottomed the elevated steps.

I knew this day was about to come―the day I would finally breakdown and just give up on everything so quickly; the day I wouldn't even try to change a thing, because I knew it was still staying the way they already were; the day I lost all hope to stop the flow of everyone's perspective on me, everyone playing tricks on me, everyone thinking they know who I am. I was the victim, yet I was also being treated as the bad guy.

I felt a sudden force jerk me back. I don't know if it was the certainty of it all being not okay and my conscience telling me to snap out of my misery and continue fighting, but even if it was, no way was I going to do that.

Next thing I knew, something was closing in around me. My mind was too numb to care what and why, so I came to the settlement of just sucking it all back in. I didn't want anyone seeing me so broken face to face. But when a voice that used to loudspeaker all these horrible things shushed me, promising lies like, "Everything's going to be fine," I launched forward, digging my heels into the ground. "Just leave," I spat, choking down the hiccups.

To no avail of getting away, my back was pressed further into his chest.

You know the feeling wherein all your rage and downheartedness consumes you? And you just need that reassurance to pull you back on your feet? It was one of those rare times for me.

I knew I was going to regret this later, but what about my contentment, my _fulfilment_? All I needed was someone to count on; this single stunt of his, it made me want to claw out everything I used to think of him. Of course I knew it was a prank, still…

I turned the opposite way around―the arms firmly stapled at my sides rose to their own accord, wrapping them around him―returning his embrace, too caught up in my emotions to sweat about it. I broke down, resting my forehead on the crook of his neck; drenching it in the process.

It could still be one of his tricks, but if it was, I had no care whatsoever. I didn't see any possibilities of a bad aftermath for me, anyway. If I were to be made fun of in the future because of it, there was no surprise, 'cause I was already aware of the fact it could happen. It would have had no effect, because I went through that same imperiousness _every single day_. It won't bother, not even bewilder me if someone comes to me tomorrow and adds: _you're pathetic_ to their sad repetitive taunts. At least he gave me a damn sense of belonging.

Although, even I would admittedly was pathetic for believing how true his actions were, judging from how he used to treat me. But that moment was different. I wasn't in my usual strong condition; I was a sad excuse for a fighter: injured, damaged, broken; he had what I needed. He glued me back together.

It may have heightened my spirits, but my respect for him went downhill even more, if that was humanly possible. He was bringing this into a whole new level of low.

I mean, look at how foolish this is. This isn't real, right?

My eyelids squeezed shut, and every noise in the area slowly died down. I wanted to be in that place forever, where there were no worries nor fears―where it was all calm, and the heat radiating from Fenton soothed my nerves. The place where I was being rebuilt―not reinforced and strengthened from then on―just rebuilt. All of it was a lie, but I was bound to be stand from it.

Then it occurred to me.

I let my hands slowly drop to their place, my sobs finally silencing into small sniffles. I could feel him letting go, mimicking a reflection of my stance as my bloodshot eyes cast upward and saw him.

…

It was that same satisfying feeling… that had Nick Harris written all over it.

And I had _no_ intent of going through those experiences all over again. Not with Fenton. Not with anyone;

As much as I wanted to thank the ebony hair that bristled against my skin, the cobalt pair that willed me to never step down from people like him, I didn't know how to, since regret had been towering over again. I disliked him, and that's all it took for me to stay away before. Now, I had the perfect excuse to back off even more.

This was… good.

* * *

Sam loosened her grip, setting her arms down. He did the same as she came to face him, her glinting eyes and tensed muscles revealing the desire to take off and never have to see or hear from him again.

"_Stop it, okay? Just stop it._"

She bolted away without another word escaping her trembling lips―fearing an accidental spill out of anymore viscous counteracts might result in driving him closer due to her afflictions―leading the small crowd which had just exited the building and picked up on the last part of their short interchange.

Danny put every ounce of his capability to work, desperate for a disappointed frown to spread across his features. Day one had been a success (It was a perfect reason to grin with much pride), and that only meant the following were going to be as well, if not better. But he was not intent in making this appear much more a joke than it already was. His lips were pulled into a straight line, lingering between tugging it upward or downward. He thanked God internally when his scowl considerably defined, but also cursed at no one in particular for bringing down his spirits immensely, once the girl he was doing all of this for waltzed passed him like he wasn't even there.

'Cheer practice,' he remembered. Flashbacks unveiled in his head: those times where he would be waiting for her outside the gymnasium, bringing her stuff and glancing from time to time at his phone's clock.

Little had he known, his supposedly brief look never left Paulina. After said girl noticed, she only grimaced venomously and responded with a turn of the head, remarking, "Disgusting," to her co-cheerleaders. Evidently, she was still pissed, and yes, she delivered her thought well.

'But not so long from now, she's going to be her old preppy self, tagging alongside me and finding the perfect times to show of our togetherness,' Danny concluded without speech.

Something kept bugging him, though―the concept of hurting a girl already so beaten. He couldn't bring himself to do that to a girl already so fragile, could he? Was he really that much of a cold-hearted noob that he was willing to ruin a girl for another girl, who didn't return his feelings, but pretended to for glory?

At first, he probably would've laughed at thinking―not even attempting―of getting in his own way. But seeing those tears stream down Sam's pale and twisted in pain face made his stomach churn in distress. He started thinking twice about doing what he really wanted, or doing the right thing; that said a lot, since he was Danny Fenton.

* * *

"You're joking, right?" Val asked; no amusement evident in her lack of conviction.

"Why in the _world_ would I joke about something like that?"

There was no answer. The girl held her phone to her ear ever so forcefully, hoping to hear even the smallest of sounds from the other end of the line, and swearing the home button had already left a mark on her cheek.

The slightest shuffle alerted her that the same bothersome agitation she was feeling somehow transmitted to the other side. Mumbles were perceived by her apprehension, an angry, "Give me that," slurring from the speakers.

"We'll be at your place in ten," Mia informed, referring more to Valerie than the expecting Goth.

Sam nodded as the line went dead.

* * *

"Why are your eyes red?"

"'Cause―"

"Why are your eyelids puffy?"

"I was getting to―"

"Did he do this to you?"

"Fenton? He―"

"How dare he!"

"But—!"

"Val, grab that heavy book."

Sam was perched on her steel bed frame, sitting cross-legged and cloaked in the comforter Mia wrapped her around in. Clearly left out, she cleared her throat and hesitatingly called for their attention. "Guys?" The two girls scattering about her room and pulling it apart, looking for the appropriate items to bag Fenton and pay for what he accusingly did, disregarded her whims of being listened to. They threw her belongings around, causing a huge pile to swiftly grow in the middle of her room: things from her closet, bookshelves, under the bed… even from the bathroom.

"What? Wait, stop. We can't throw that at Fenton!" The African-American girl tsked in disapproval. Sam fell back into her cushions, letting her bare feet dangle from the edge. "_Finally_. Some sense into what you're―"

"Sam, shh." Valerie held a finger to her lips. "This isn't about discontinuing it. I was about to say that we need something even heavier."

Mia groaned, "Have you even _tried_ lifting it yet?" She shoved herself under the dark colored covers hanging from the sides of where Sam laid, speech muffled from being practically face to face with the carpeted floor. "It looks real heavy, y'know." The lower half of her body perked up, adjusting to the small space.

"But―"

"How 'bout that large box filled with stuff. It looks heavy enough."

"Wait―"

"Something _heavier_."

"Girls―"

"I got it!"

"What is it?"

"Try listening for a―"

"Sam's boots!"

"Genius!"

"_Listen to me!_"

A deafening hush followed. Valerie slowly faced the irritated girl, her touch never leaving the contents of the cabinet. Mia, on the other hand, knowing she wasn't within range, continued to grasp for unknown items she could reach.

"You too, Mia."

The said girl slowly made her way out and sat criss-cross right where her legs were planted. Sam looked at her, setting her gaze on the metal boots; restraining the want to grab it and hit him herself.

"Look, one way or another, yeah, he did do... this."

"Well it's time to―!"

All it took was one look from Sam directed at the both of them, to mute whoever, she thought, said that. "I-I only… broke down, okay? I only broke down because of his comforts… if that's how you say it. Whatever. Point is, we do _not," _She stood up, grabbed her shoes and looked for her purple socks. "go around, hurting people with boots."

"―Or heavy books, boxes, anything." She continued, seeing Valerie from the corner of her eye, open her mouth. "You can't be serious about hitting Fenton with these?"

"W-well…" Mia interjected, "Is this more of an issue, or nothing at all? I mean, him comforting you?"

She bit her lip. '_It wasn't really an issue, was it? Aside from it being insincere, anyway._'

"Y―"

…

"No."

Mia chuckled. "Well what's the deal then?" She jumped up and secured Sam's struggling arms in a tight lock. "If I were you, I would put this opportunity to my advantage. You said it's all this Nick Harris biz all over again, right?"

"Where is this going?" said Valerie, not quite picking up.

"Downhill."

The brunette buckled, placing a hand on her hip. "No. If she wants to get over this, then she has to get rid of that feeling. What better way than to trash the relationship herself?"

"Uh, first of all, there is no relationship. Second, it's already a no. No, no, no, no, no. I know where you're going with this."

"Think of it, Sam! You're finally gonna stop this obsess―"

"It's not an obsession! It's just a remnant of my past which refuses to go away."

"―Because you're not even trying to shoo it away. Come on, Sam. Do this for yourself."

She ran a hand through her let-down midnight black strands, releasing a stutter of uncertainty. Her two friends waited in both excitement and worry, one of them knowing this would be a bad idea if their girl accepted the challenge presented to her. In terms of bad, for Valerie, not for Sam―seeing the guy she still loved in the arms of her best pal. Because of that, she was to be consumed by her jealousy, possibly resulting in turning her back against the independent persona of her best friend, who trusted Val most.

"F-f...―" She exhaled.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Nick Harris actually plays an important role in this fic, 'cause he's the main reason why Sam isn't willing to go back and try things like that again, y'know, falling in love, dating and whatsoever. (Aside from the fact she's Goth.)  
**

**Ratings and reviews are appreciated! A lot.**

**Next chapter... I don't want you guys expecting a chapter at a certain point while I'm not even halfway done with it, so I would say... 3 weeks max? I hope? I got a lot of inspiration from Tumblr anyway. :) IF YOU DON'T HAVE TUMBLR, CREATE AN ACCOUNT. THE PHANDOM THERE IS TOTALLY ACTIVE. AND INSANE.**

**WHOOPS. THAT SLIPPED.**

**Haha. 'Til then!**


	6. Chapter 5

_**PLEASE READ EVEN JUST THE PARAGRAPH BELOW THIS SENTENCE.**_

**_Hey guys. :) Remember when I said I would be editing the previous chapter? I decided to go back on all the chapters and I discovered that I labeled them all - Danny, Sam, Tucker, Dash, Kwan, Val, Mia and Paulina, to be exact - as THIRD year high school students. I made a mistake. At their ages of seventeen, they're supposed to be FOURTH year already. They're FOURTH YEAR in this fic, okay? :) NOT THIRD. I edited the certain chapter in which their year level was indicated already, for future references. Sorry for some confusions._**

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**Now, time for my biweekly/triweekly(?) check-in with you guys. C: Hey y'all. DID I MEET THE TIME PERIOD?**

**...**

**I MADE IT. AW YEAH.**

**And guess what? Summer break is right around the corner for you bros! Which means summerbreakinthePhilippinesiscomingtoanend - asdfghjkl.**

**I don't own Danny Phantom or anything recognizable below.**

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**Thirty Days Is Not An Option**

**"Chapter 5"**

Wednesday, May 16, 2013

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Day Two: Second of March

"So," Danny began, praying for the awkwardness―or such irateness, he could say―that scorched between them to burn out, replaced by a smooth exchange free of taunts and sarcasm, which would mark the beginning of their acquaintanceship. After yesterday, he actually thought they would be at that level already, but when she chose to keep herself shut away today―movement-free, gaze stuck to the door and mouth buttoned―he thought otherwise. A simple thank you would've been fine, expected even. But what came from her? Nothing―not even a shuffling noise was produced from her motions. He wouldn't get to her; he was sure. Persuading him even more was the fact that they were on _bad terms_. He was thoroughly convinced of her mental absence already, so the moment her jaw subtly dropped, a flicker of excitement gauged him―the need to suddenly peer at her through his messy hair kicked in. He did so, eyeing the way Sam's lips pranced as she repeated his word, just barely louder than a volume of none.

"So," she said, her teeth almost clenched together. "Thanks."

The left tip of his mouth pulled upwardly, his signature crooked grin in the works.

"Whatever for?" He rubbed in slyly, wanting to hear it come from her.

"For being so horrible and making me cry," Sam muttered under her breath.

Danny, unable to hear, gestured for her to speak up―illustrating a turn of the wheel volume for a component system.

"For yesterday. You… made me feel better."

Something started glinting in her eyes, something Danny couldn't decipher. He read her face: no emotions shone through, though. She then bent over, adjusting from a decent to a sloppy posture as she encased her hands above the table built into the school-property seats.

'_It was starting to get to her again―the putting-her-down.' _He assumed.

"Favorite color?" he blurted out, trying to reduce the swelling feeling of restlessness from the atmosphere. She refused to acknowledge his question, choosing to distract herself by picking at the tips of her delicate fingers; the discussion of last night still a pest, declining the subsidence of the entire happening. She felt an embodiment of Mia's exact words strangling her.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Danny was completely oblivious to it. He continued to nudge at her for information, with no intent other than making her feel more comfortable around him. But unbeknownst to him, he was doing the exact opposite of that.

'_I can't do this,' _she reasoned to herself. That was supposed to be it―a simple thank you and they both acted like it never happened: him not wanting to have anymore means of communication with her, she presumed, and her just wanting to show her gratitude for what he did yesterday, splitting the last strand of contact they had of each other. But he made every little thing she said connect to and display his unusual pride; her brain further frazzling at his rather weird signs.

It perplexed her: his strong determination in trying to get her to notice him. Just a few days ago, he couldn't stand within twenty feet of her. Now, she couldn't tear him off her, and honestly, she didn't know if her decision of being angry about it was the right one. It was the second out of the five days they were to be together, and he was starting to give off the impression that he was genuine, but an implication of his honesty wasn't enough for the girl. Something from the back of her head kept saying: No. It's not truthful.

She rammed her thoughts back when Mr. Banks came in, a grimace imbedded on his facial features. His forest green orbs penetrated her violets, making the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand, intimidation spritzed all over.

"I'll be leaving the both of you alone for today, seeing as the two _troublemakers_," The man's voice rose at the last word, notifying and warning them of his inability to handle anymore nuisances like Zach and Kyle in his classes. "Are not present. I have nothing to worry about, correct?"

They nodded simultaneously.

"Keep off of each other." He gave them a suggestive look―one Sam couldn't help but cringe at― peeking inside one more time before finally securing the door. It banged loudly, and as the noise boomed through Sam's ears, it was as if it were laughing menacingly at her misery.

She dragged a paw over her face, focusing on her breathing instead of the awaiting boy to her left.

"I'm gonna keep ranting if you're not telling me what it is."

She didn't retort, wanting the dialogue―that didn't even exist―in between them, over. Instead, she got up, crouched down to snatch a single strap of her backpack, and moved to the farthest, rightmost chair away from Danny. She held the bag to her stomach, ready to transfer again if he thought about moving closer. He didn't leave his place, however, choosing to lift his nose in the air, and to plaster a leer, opening his mouth and declaring, "You asked for this."

In the moment that followed, all she heard was his anger-lighting, snobby voice.

And for once, Sam hadn't regret anything as much in those seemingly long ten seconds where he said the words, "Favorite color? Favorite color? Favorite color? Favorite color?" one time after the other.

"_Violet, okay?_" She dipped her face into her hands. "Just, shut up!"

It got a smile out of him, and even though he knew that the girl on the other side was trying to simmer down the beckon of a beautiful collision of her fist with his teeth, he laughed, not teasingly, but in delight. "You wouldn't mind if I ask more, right?" He didn't even remember the last time he felt as high-spirited.

She scoffed. "Uh, yeah, I would."

"Favorite flowers? Favorite flowers? Favorite flowers? Favorite flo―"

"No!" She screamed frustrated. "I _wouldn't_ mind."

She immediately pronounced, "Lilacs," before the preference of lying sprung into her consciousness. Her eyelids shut forcibly, clutching fists showing off her dissipating serenity. "What's it to you?"

He was having too much fun, folding his arms together and beaming up at her, he decided to forget she even had the will to interrogate. "Favorite chocolates?"

She growled inaudibly. "Look,"

A sudden jolt ran through his veins, knowing full well that she would eventually ask what was going on. He leaped towards, "Stop asking―mph." suppressing her speech before being able to successfully complete her sentence. He was far too foolish to come up with an acceptable answer, he acknowledged, even more so that he already knew she would be on about what was up. "I ask you again, favorite chocolates?" Her eyes widened as she was not used to his touch, any touch for that matter, looking down at his violet stained index finger. She slapped his wrist away in disgust. "Get your filthy hands off me."

He glowered, "Come _on_. Just tell me." putting on the best puppy-dog pout he could pull off at the moment. It amused her; she would be lying if she said it didn't. A smug grin crawled upon her, Danny's expression explicating furthermore. On the inside though, her degree of vexation―she was _this _close to breaking down that door―hardly went down. He was as annoying as ever, and she wasn't pouring all her patience on him now, because she had three more hell-of-hours with him in the following days.

"Will it get you to stop your whining?" An intensifying migraine was making its' way up her head.

"Yeah." He said in an, '_Obviously,' _tone_, _sitting on the floor in front of her.

"Ferrero Rocher," she stated before the idea of lying hit her the second time, forgetting once again one of the many options she found handy whenever he asked questions. Sam shrugged it off, composing a mental note of never again, telling the truth in front of Fenton. It was only three facts he knew about her, wasn't it? What could he possibly do with such information?

'_Nothing―as if he hadn't heard anything,_' she vented sternly, enclosing the case with a content belief.

The Goth had no idea she would be lodging those words back into her throat ever so forcefully, later on. Danny had plans which he would not be revealing 'til the last day they would be spending detention together. (Correction: the last day she _thinks _they would be spending detention together.) He still had a few things up his sleeve, and as much as he didn't want to do it, he had to put his plan into action when the time came.

For himself, that is. Not to her advantage.

He was trying to consider the regard for Sam as well, because he could only imagine what she was going through, but putting up with her for one measly hour on Tuesday proceeded with a never mind.

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**Thank you, you beautiful people, for reading. :3**

**Ratings and reviews are greatly appreciated, especially constructive criticism.**

**Next chapter comes out in 10-20 days.**

**'Til then!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Hey guys.**

**Time for my biweekly/triweekly(?) check in with you!**

**As you all know, I entered the Tumblr phandom a month ago, and honestly, it's one of the best decisions I've ever made in my entire life. So if you haven't entered the phandom yet, I suggest you do.  
**

**Let me tell you an incredibly short story. :D  
**

**Me and my friends were chatting and for some reason, we ended up on Danny Phantom as a topic. (If I remember correctly, we were talking about crushes. *wink* Shh. c:) First, I started blabbing on about DannyxSam fluff and how awesome the fandom was, and to my surprise, they actually started gaining interest on the show _and_ the Tumblr phandom. I had them over at my place and explained an entire prompt about what they have to know when entering Tumblr. It took me about... an hour at the most. AND THEY WERE PHANS IN THE MAKING ALL ALONG AND THEY DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TO BRING OUT THEIR POTENTIAL HOW COULD THEY I COULD'VE SHOWN THEM THE WONDERS OF DP. 3:  
**

**And... classes started today.**

**You :) guys :) enjoy :) your :) summer :) break, :) okay? :)**

**And sorry if there are any mistakes for this chapter. I got sick a week back, and I couldn't even type a whole paragraph 'cause my head was hurting like _crazy_. I had to rush the making of this, AND TUMBLR AND WRITER'S BLOCK WASN'T HELPING EITHER. D:**

**I don't own Danny Phantom, or anything recognizable.**

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**Thirty Days Is Not An Option**

**"Chapter 7"**

Monday, June 3, 2013

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Day Three: Third of March

"Hey Sam." He waved to her from the hall, three steps away from the designated room for the day. She looked up from her dozens of scribbled notes blankly, tilting her head around to look for the annoying source of the sound she already knew of. She was able to spot his arm, due to her angle, but still pretended she hadn't seen anything, her coldness discharging with an exasperated sigh Fenton did not hear.

"So," he leaned against the door-case as he entered, cloaking his arms around his body. "I see you're using that."

He pointed to something in her hand. The pencil she held see-sawed in her touch at the sight of it, one side consecutively tapping lightly against her purple-tinted highlighter. "What, you want me to burn it? Throw it away? Never use it again? They cut down perfectly good trees for this, you know."

He bit his tongue to keep from saying or doing anything that could piss her off. "I thought you would, since I held it and spread my 'germs'," He hoisted up aerial quotation marks. "all over it and everything." She jutted her lower lip out, a pretend look of care for his feelings splashing onto her. "But you wouldn't like that, would you? After all, you gave it to me."

Danny's head pitched from right to left as he said, "Hardy har har," in a playful tone. He shifted his view from Sam to the marked board. Written was, "Detention" in big letters, and underneath it was a smaller "Behave. I'll be returning in thirty minutes to check up on you," a swivelled arrow beside "you," and a poorly-transcribed "Mr. Banks," as if he was rushed as he came to it.

He proceeded to his usual chair with a skip in his step, and Sam couldn't help but furrow her brows at it. Last time she checked, he was this depressed guy coming from a breakup. Today, it's as if he bathed in rainbows, skidded with talking bunnies and glided with pixies. Her nose crinkled in repulsion at the image she pictured, returning to focus on her studies.

Normally, no, she wouldn't be this productive at anytime in the day, but she had to use something as an excuse in order for her attention to be pulled, miles away, from Fenton. '_After all,'_ she thought, '_I haven't been studying much, lately.'_ She's been out of it during these recent nights, Mia's unwavering voice serving as a dark shadow of horror which never stopped stalking at her heels.

Obsession; Advantage;

Those words didn't leave her be, and once more, it lured her out of her current focus.

She never thought of Harris as an obsession. As much as how meaningful that meant, he was more, but ―at the same time―less than that: He was a fragment of her heart. When he left, half of it seemed to have died away with the recollection of him. Her tears constantly lulled her to sleep; her pillow listened to her broken voice which asked the same question every time the moon rose above the night skies. What was the purpose of all that? Why did destiny plan all this to happen―meeting him, falling for him and watching him disappear? Why did she have to be such a klutz and bump into him in second year, the first time they met? It's why she hated love. It betrayed her; it left her to rot. If it wasn't for love, she wouldn't have been suffering at the loss of him. If it wasn't for love, she wouldn't have cared if he left or not. It was the only reason, no matter how stupid it was, why she sometimes wished she was frayed in the image of Paulina, or every other shallow witch this school had to offer―those who didn't care whoever it was they dated, held their hand and made them feel that special tingle, hell, even shared their first kiss with. Whatever it may have been, none of it mattered.

And in an instant, she was brought back to the time she and Valerie had their little _talk _of what they _knew _about love.

The time she was with Nick, it felt like cloud nine. Nothing was in the way―her parents approved of him, Paulina was out of her hair for she was busy crawling over Fenton and doing what she can to get her details about Phantom, she loved him, and he loved her back.

Needless to say, she fell in love, but _technically, _he didn't reciprocate her feelings.

He was in love. She fell in love. It's different to her, and if she says it is, then it is.

That situation with Valerie, yes, age did matter to her, mainly because of her own self-experience. She knew people her age were idiots when it came to love, just like how she was, so blind to everything, refusing to see the truth and was always in denial of the people who said they would eventually split up. _She believed it would be forever; she believed they would never end; she got her hopes up plummeted into the rock hard ground._

She bashed the green, dull Faber Castle, lead first, into the pages of her notebook, creating a dark smudge she had no idea her action caused.

"You okay? You seem… out of it." He pondered. "And… mad."

The grief she held back started building up in her eyes. She let her hair down and bowed, getting angry at herself even more. It bothered her to no end: why her tears always threatened to pour whenever Fenton was around. It never occurred when she was with someone else, only Fenton.

"_Damn it_," She hissed, rubbing at her heating cheeks as the drops welled away, brushing any trace of it completely off.

Danny only gawked at her, utterly dumbfounded. Should he come up to her again and relieve her certainty that he was there for her? Because last time he remembered, it did _not_ work out well. Although he was this power-hungry absolutist who never cared for anyone or anything below standards, seeing a girl cry always brought out the reflex of holding responsible for whoever she may be. He ignored the fear of being pushed away, on his way to stand up, when she interfered.

"I'm fine, I'm…" She let out a restrained breath. "I'm fine."

Fenton nodded unconvinced, but did so in order to appease her, even just a bit.

She ran a hand through her bangs, revealing her spiritless amethyst irises. "How 'bout you? What are you so happy about?"

"Nothing, really." His pearly whites flashed up at Sam. A light puff broke out from her, spirits heightened somewhat. "Then shut that trap," she joked in an implied-quavering pitch, nothing Fenton found offensive in any way.

"What?" he exclaimed defensively. "Can't I smile without a reason?"

"Of course you can, but, I don't know. You just came from a breakup."

Breakup. It hit him like an arrow.

He toned down considerably, and Sam grasped the fact very quickly. She immediately knew she hit a nerve, and even though some part of her―the bitching part of her―said he deserved the pain, she knew it all too well, and she didn't want others to feel the same way she did. She felt horrible, much more because she was at fault for the summoning of his emotional ache.

"Fenton, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to―Oh God." An apologetic look flushed down her previous sarcasm. Looking down in shame, chewing the inside of her cheek, she couldn't face him. Fenton tried to smile, but failed miserably, his attempt coming out more of a sad frown.

"No, you don't have to be sorry. It's nothing."

"No, it _is_ something, something I shouldn't have―"

"_I_ should be sorry."

In the mere nine seconds that passed, Sam sat there with nothing in mind for what seemed longer. When it finally sunk into her thick skull, as Fenton would describe, she was surprised to full extent. Other emotions were there―provocation, that definitely―but her astonishment drowned it all out. The sentence she would've finished died away in her throat, along with the memory of ever making him feel bad. Replaced by it was an unexpected rise. Her blood boiled, and she couldn't help releasing her "_What?_" like it had been contaminated with poison. Yet, her eyes softened nonetheless as an immediate response. She didn't mean to sound as rage-filled as she did; the guy was asking to be forgiven, for crying out loud. It just felt so… off to her. Did he really think she was dumb enough to believe him?

"I'm sorry."

She laughed almost bitterly, "Are you kidding me?" her question coming out more of a demand for the answer she seriously thought he would give:

'_Yeah, I am.'_

He swallowed hard and sunk down into his chair―his own perspective of himself as the victim in the situation. "What? No. Sam, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Okay, fine, you're not joking. You're trying to offend me, is that it?" She wiped an imaginary tear away. "You really crack me up."

"No, Sam. Why can't you just stop with the doubts and believe me for once?"

"Yeah," her false smile disappeared, shifting to a narrow of vision. "Why would I have the right mind to trust _you_?"

His glowing cobalts lost its flicker, as if the bulb illuminating from beyond them sparked; cracked; popped.

She grit her teeth together, "That's what I thought," sticking her pencil into one of the folded-back notebooks; all the venom she could muster thrown into her well thought-of, pointing out. "Tell me, Fenton, why would I give you a chance if you've never even shown yourself worthy, _ever_, of being given one? There's no reason to. All you've ever done to every single being in this school was to look down on them, step over them, watch them on the sidelines, being stuffed into lockers, like they were nothing but asses who deserved it, when, in fact, the jocks―your little friends included―did."

Hooking the tip of her finger into the hole of her bag's zipper, she tugged down on it lamely, dumped her things inside and let it sag over her back. She jerked her shoulders, the heavy pack kicking up at the movement.

"Sam, no. Don't do that. Come on, we can talk this out!"

"And why would I listen to you? You didn't listen to those poor students' begs for mercy or pleas for help from inside the locker."

With a disgusted grimace and a twitch of her mouth, she shut the want to leave without contemplating Fenton, after he―hopefully―took in everything she said, up.

Lids only half-open, he didn't dare say a word, knowing a comeback would just silence him again.

"You…you were a good kid." She stopped at the door and faced him, his messy hair blocking his eyes, deciding to let the unspoken words of hope and encouragement phased into her sentiments keep take its place in keeping him afloat before dropping him into the water.

"Were."

And even though the thirty minute mark was nearing quickly, Sam took her precious time turning around to face the exit, expecting a remark, or a false stutter, maybe. She stood on the balls of her feet, pushing the wall as she let force do the rest. Inside―believing how horrible she could be or not―she was leering, proud to have played with Fenton's conscience without a single slip up bumping into her. But outside, she was furious; she really was. But along the center of both, remorse―remorse for making the very person who lifted her up in desperate times, go down, even though he may or may not have, she was still unsettled about it, deserved it.

With Fenton finally out of view and the empty halls right in front of her, she stepped out.

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"Dude, why are you out so early? Weren't you supposed to be dismissed at, like, five?"

"Well…" The raven haired boy nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I skipped out."

Tucker muttered an acknowledgement, carefully eyeing the way his best friend kept his gaze stuck to the round, dark green carpet in the middle of his bedroom. He let his thoughts wander off, same as what Fenton had been doing since he walked through the door. The idea of an incredibly heated argument pissing off both sides came into mind

"Tuck, on a scale of one to ten, how jerky am I?"

"Uh," Tucker contemplated on his sudden realization, wondering how deep his friend and Sam had gone to actually confess to himself that he was being a―

Jumping out of bed, he pointed accusingly at Danny, realization hitting him like a short ton block. "Manson broke you! Ha!"

Danny's gaze shot up at the taunt and hilarity in the African-American boy's discovery, only to find the aforementioned tapping away on his PDA. "I am _so_ telling―!"

He leapt up to grab the tightly-grasped gadget glued to his buddy's palms. A bitter scowl etched onto his face, "Dude!" Tucker grunting as he tried to pry away the arm leashing his left upper limb, his right stretched out. The other teen's raven-hair bounced from side to side at the motion of riding Tucker like a bull. Danny's hand gnawed on the device, determined to erase the halfway-written text as the withholder barely clutched onto it.

"I think I'm going to have fun being friends with Manson, seeing as how she embarrasses you."

The PDA jumped upwards, thrown onto the bed and Danny running after it, sweat trickling down his temple in horror at the attempt in succession, but quickly wiped the beads away when he saw the outbox clear of such.

"You're _not_ friends. May I remind you, she hates people like us. And that was nowhere near funny, Tuck. My name's on the line here!"

Forest green eyes rolled over at the statement, "You're definitely an eleven out of ten." the once-geek who still kept his intellect intact―even after popularity seized him by the shoulders―knew his hypothesis was accurate. "But anyways, _chill_. _You_ have "_connections_" to Phantom, Danny. _They_ don't. So who follows you like a lost puppy? _They_ do. Heck, I bet that Manson chick would even stand as competition against Paulina once you start dating. She's actually got the looks. I bet you've fallen for her already." He crumpled up a piece of paper and propelled it in the laid-back boy's direction, Danny easily dodging it by turning himself, and the bed, intangible.

"Haha, no. Things would've been better today if I hadn't gone to detention. Paulina just shouted, 'I love you!'" he imitated the Hispanic girl's high pitch. "and directed it to Phantom this morning, but she just had to ruin my mood. I'll be glad when I finally break her heart and never have to do anything that concerns her again."

"Damn." Tucker's eyebrows stitched together, pushing the bridge of his glasses up. "Make than a hundred out of ten. You're a real ass, you know that?" came from his mouth unwillingly, knocking himself upside the head for saying something which should've perished at the very idea, but much to his surprise, Danny took it as a joke, no sarcasm involved.

"And that my friend," The ghost boy dropped the phone he was fiddling with moments ago, two white rings appearing along his midriff, taking opposite sides as it ventured his body. "is why she doesn't like me."

Tucker released an annoyed pft, regaining his place on the bed as his friend hovered beside the window, readying himself for the flight and the lengthy twenty-seven days left. He held the flopped over gizmo close to his side, his love for technology―and old self, he could say―still amusing him of its presence even after all this time.

Danny, on the other hand, well… he couldn't say the same.

"See you."

He couldn't find the terms to bid him farewell, because everything coming to him had something to do with, "You're such an ass-hat."

Danny's changed so much.

…

For the worse.

…

'_But Manson can change that, which is more than enough reasoning for me to support their relationship.'_

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_**Tucker is one of us now. **_:)

**...**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Ratings and reviews are greatly appreciated. Always open for constructive criticism.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! Finally got this updated. Huehue, I'm so happy.**

**As some of you may know, school has already started in my country, so there is a very high probability that I will not go online or update as much and as quickly as I used to. Anyway, I wanna express my gratitude for the support you guys are showing! It really means a lot. :) Reading your comments and opinions on how the fic is going so far... they pull me back on track, so thank you for taking the time to review/PM/inquire about certain details that I sometimes fail to further look into. I hope this chapter satisfies your cravings for updates! :D  
**

**Enjoy your summer, guys!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own DP, or anything familiar, below.**

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Thirty Days Is Not An Option

"Chapter 4"

Monday, July 08, 2013

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Day Four: Fourth of March

**_07:16_**

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"Manson."

The mentioned Goth looked to her right, a somewhat lanky, yellow-clothed shoulder peeking out from the side of her swung-open locker door. She looked further down, taking note of the dark-toned palm that limply hung at a sideward angle, green cargo pants that stopped a few inches above the man's ankle with a pocket at each side, and brown sneaker boots that seemed to be trudged heavily upon the ground to no end. She could easily recognize him, therefore, letting him wait all he want for an acknowledgement she was not going to give.

Grabbing the last of her books and balancing them on her right arm, she shut the compartment closed.

"I really don't wanna hear it."

She walked past his somewhat tensed up figure, amethyst eyes half-lidded in genuine annoyance at Fenton for sending Foley over just to talk to her. No, she did not need that, especially if it was coming from an actual friend of his. Although Foley was on her neutral side, it still didn't change the fact that he was close to Fenton―knowing his secrets, plotting teenage acts of stupidity and a whole lot more. She actually had this respect for Tucker for retaining his dorky side up until now. Even if Dash and Kwan wanted him to drop it, he never did, and she saluted him for that, whatever his reason for making that decision was, may it have been pride or the likes of it. But letting him claim the opposing opinion truthful, based off of something she clearly witnessed for almost two years now, was completely out of the question.

She deadpanned at the crowded halls in her inability to find Valerie or Mia, but found herself alarmed at the sudden―and tightening―grasp on her heaving limb.

The girl turned with a stern shove, Tucker having this unusual feel of seriousness.

"Let go," Sam commanded in a low tone even the boy found frightening, "Or you'll regret it for what I'm about to do."

"Fine, fine." He did as she ordered and raised his palms up in surrender, mouth straightening into a thin slit and eyes rolling, which she returned with a cold hard glare, at her intimidating bluff. "Just let me say what I need to say, and I'll be out of your hair."

"If it's a sermon about forgiving Fenton because he has these pure intentions that are, by the way, utterly impossible for me to imagine, then forget it."

Tucker muttered something she couldn't make out, Sam thinking it was a probable defeat. "Whatever. He likes you. Okay? Now you two get together and do 'couple-y' stuff."

'_Wait,'_

"He likes you."

_He__** likes**__ you._

Sam couldn't believe what she heard, lest, any of her assumptions anymore. The world was going mad, she was sure, and it would start with her as a victim. But if what Foley said _was_ true, which she very highly doubted, it would explain all these weird signs Fenton was demonstrating: the being clingy, high toleration, everything.

"What?"

Although she knew all of this was wrong, there was this weird feeling in her stomach―a feeling that wasn't supposed to be there. She could easily tell the difference between a sudden flutter in her abdomen and feeling sick. Problem is: it most definitely wasn't aversion. Who cares if it was just flattery? _Fenton_ caused it.

_Fenton_―that sad excuse for a guy―_caused it._

For a moment there, she lost herself, no words able to form in her conscience. Everything was blocked out by her astonishment for Fenton at how far he's gone to try and do whatever it was he was planning, to her.

"_When will you guys ever learn_? Stop playing with me. Stop making fun of me! Of all your attempts, this has got to be the stupidest one!" She attempted voicing out in a serene manner, practicing in her mind seconds before she said it aloud, but wasn't exactly successful in execution with a voice close to cracking.

"Manson, I mean, Sam, I'm serious!"

She snickered at the irony, then quickly shifted to a frown. "Tell him I said hi, okay? He'll be _thrilled_ to know that I'm aware of his existence and that he's _pissing_._ Me_. _Off_."

"Sam no, you don't understand. Just… just, please promise you'll give him a chance."

The girl vigorously shook her head, ivory black tail motioning in timid sways. Her jaw clenched, chin tensing up and hardening as it pressed against the tough bone. She never believed in second chances. People don't change; they can't. Second chances were playing, deceitful―getting your hopes up and shoving you into the solid hard ground.

"No, no. Second chances are a _damn_ waste." Sam chewed on the thin layer of the inside of her bottom lip, hiding the thought and doubt in her own words. It was true; she never believed anything good would ever come out of second chances, so why did this time feel off? Was it because of infatuation; the fact he did seem convincing; a result of being twitterpated? Probably.

And as her eyes wandered away, failing to take the African-American boy seriously, she spied Fenton in the distance, hurriedly walking in her direction, a mask of pure worry ghosting over his face.

"Tell that to your friend over there."

His agitated feet came to a halt. His brows furrowed. "Tell me, what?" Fenton slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, clueless as of inquiring and how to react, concerning anything related to Sam. His cobalt pair hovered over Tucker, who was obviously intimidated at his arrival, giving the taller man a hard stare.

Foley forced a lump down his throat, tempted to run as fast as he could at the looks given to him by both Sam and Fenton.

"Your _oh-so_ huge crush on me." She placed a free hand on her hip.

Fenton surveyed her warily, gaze hovering over her entire figure. At the back of his head, all he could hope for was an obvious sign of sarcasm, not wanting to know what would happen after this exchange if Sam _did _happen to know about their little scheme.

He laughed to relieve the tension. "And what makes you think that's real?"

"Well, there's," She flicked out her pinkie, "the actual conversations we have," then her ring finger, "the indulgence for me and my distaste for you," followed by her middle finger, "and the fact that you aren't with Paulina, which is a _total_ coincidence." before coming to a stop, as if an idea just struck her. "_Are you sure this has nothing to do with her?_"

"Of course not," he waved her off, an insignificant hint of worry glazing his eyes. "But we," He stated, emphasizing the last word. He awkwardly walked over to Tucker, keeping in mind that it was impossible for him to turn around and take in, even a single-second glance at the fuming Goth.

Fenton hooked a finger into Tucker's collar, only for his arm to be swatted away forcefully by the concerned subject. He continued, "Should really get going."

Sam watched them leave, hasty steps trailing down the pathway. She could clearly see Fenton in an effort to spot, from the corner of his eyes, her following actions. She frowned, and he turned away before returning her farewell with a grimace of his own.

She continued down the hall, her Thursday routine still intact. There were still ten minutes left before the bell, and her room for first period was practically right around the corner, so she could take her time, right? This whole flurry left her completely flabbergasted; she needed all the free time she could get to think about how she would be handling the situation.

Dragging her boots along the corridor's tiled-floors, each shift of movement from one leg to another was unwillingly taken. All she wanted was to be free of school-related issues: from being on the bottom of the social chain to her current problem with a hopeless idiot by the name of Fenton and his inevitable―one way or another―plans of publicly shaming her. But if they ever did get together, even if it was fake―which disgusted her all the more―she could straighten him up, put him together, reshape him in the likeness of how an educated teenage boy should be.

And there was still a plus side to it: she still had the option to use this as a way to get over _him_. She could do to Fenton whatever it was she wished to do as if it were actually Harris portraying the character in this little stage play; ask him to do the impossible, command him to get her the most expensive stuff that wouldn't even put a dent on her fortune, or anything that provides hardships for him.

Maybe… just maybe, God actually planned for this to happen.

Nothing he was planning could ever leave a scratch on her tough individual, anyway, so of course she was willing to go head to head with the A-list crowd. They couldn't intimidate her, not one bit.

Sam would be lying if she said not a single fraction of this temporary arrangement was tempting. Mia, she wasn't helping either.

_**"F-f...―"**_

The night she exhaled―

"_**Forget it."**_

―exclaiming rejection as she rubbed at her temples was not as satisfying as she thought them to be.

The girl was seventy percent confident of her, admittedly, unfinished blueprints, but she was sure her brain would eventually come up with something when the time she was supposedly done with Fenton, came.

That is, if she doesn't give up halfway through the plan.

She was definitely _not_ letting this golden opportunity to fix Fenton and herself, which suddenly popped out of the water, pass. No. She was going to reel it in, no matter how contradicting, strong and convincing her doubts for a positive outcome were.

Because screw this, screw everything.

* * *

_**16:03**_

* * *

"Fenton, I, uh, need to talk to you." She slung a strap over her squaring shoulders, still uncertain about the words actually making its way out her throat.

He shot up from the contents of his backpack and gawked at the unusually responsive being, raising a single brow in an endeavor to hide an obvious narrowing of his eyes.

"What about?"

"About awhile ago." He took a sideways glance while Sam's serious stare never left him, focusing on the task at hand and would rather not blow him off even more. "Look, I'm sorry. I was rude and-and I couldn't think straight, okay? You just… you had my mind in scrambles there."

She _stuttered_. She _never_ stutters.

A tip of his mouth tugged upward, and as soon as he did that popular, lopsided grin of his, Sam knew exactly why every shallow girl fell for such an angelic act. It all made sense, considering the fact they only judged from the outer perspective of things.

"Don't even think of it."

"And for the record, thanks. I know you only said that to make me feel better." A smile crept its way past her lips.

She was about to run out and leave for detention when he popped a single question that, even though she knew it was coming, would haunt her for the rest of high school, and her following college years, in the least.

"Can I start courting you then?"

A brunette stood up with a loud grate of her armchair. "Oh my God! Did you guys hear that?" she screeched, squinting her bulging orbs.

"Shut up! It's about to get good!" another screamed out.

Sam nervously looked around, receiving envy-filled and stricken gazes as her amethyst irises met with others' greens, blues, browns and blacks. "Uh… yeah." She brought Fenton back in her line of vision, and from behind, screeches and frustrated groans resounded throughout the room. "You should really thank Tucker, y'know."

"Let me walk you to the classroom, milady." He joked and enthusiastically jumped out of his chair. Offering her an awaiting hand, he lowered his head and mouthed a 'sorry for everything'.

She took it hesitantly at first, feeling the callused skin of his palm.

It would still take some getting used to, but hopefully, it would be quicker than her original thought.

He casually pulled her out of the room, drawing attention to their too-close-for-comfort distances and holding hands.

"So, I guess it's time we get to know each other, huh?"

"Guess it is."

* * *

**I have _no _idea when the next update will be released, but I have this strong feeling it'll be next month. Sorry guys. :c LOL, you know, tomorrow's Monday and I still have an unfinished paper I have to submit by then. And I still have to do research. _Lots and lots_ of research.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Ratings, reviews and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!**


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